


Lazarus Didn't Live Forever

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to "Cold Lazarus." Daniel was still pretty new to this friendship thing, but he could tell Jack was hurting, and he wanted to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus Didn't Live Forever

First published in _Fragments_ (2005)

 

Daniel Jackson sat alone at the commissary table, staring into his coffee mug and pondering the ways of the universe. Or rather, one planet in the universe and the life forms it contained. A race that meant no harm, yet had done a great deal of damage because they didn’t understand.

Daniel sighed and took a sip of the coffee. Well, he had that in common with them. He didn’t understand, either. And maybe the damage would actually turn out for the good. Or…something.

Okay, so his thoughts were making about as much sense as the aliens had.

The bottom line was that aliens didn’t think the way humans did. With most of their contacts so far different human ancestral races, Daniel had almost forgotten that there were other beings out there whose ideas of communication and emotion and life were inconceivable to a human. Like a race of crystal energy beings whose idea of first contact was to knock you unconscious and then “fix” you by pulling out your most painful memory and bringing it to life. Daniel had already more than once shuddered to think that could have been his mother or father impersonated by the alien crystal. The thought was…horrifying even to contemplate.

But no, he hadn’t been so unlucky. Jack had.

And there was the true bottom line for Daniel. Jack O’Neill was a good man and one he respected, one of the few people who’d bothered to show Daniel any kindness in his life. That he’d in effect been given his son back just long enough to revive all the buried grief and memories, and then had lost him again, put a whole different wrench in Daniel’s guts. Certainly Jack had known in his head none of it was real, but the heart was often less discerning, and the awful ache it had to have left behind would be real enough.

Maybe it was for the best, Sam had suggested that afternoon. The fake Charlie had talked to Jack, made him try to see he still had his son inside him and always would. And it had brought Sara O’Neill back into her ex-husband’s life, another loss Daniel knew Jack had never gotten over. Maybe this was catharsis and would help the man heal.

But Daniel couldn’t help remembering Jack’s face as he’d walked through the Stargate with the crystal-Charlie knowing he was saying good-bye to his son again. And for once, Daniel wasn’t trying to see the other culture’s side, wasn’t sympathizing with their losses and good intentions. He couldn’t even make himself want to learn more about the beings unlike any he’d seen before. It was hard to keep the neutral mindset a good anthropologist needed when those he was to study had brought real pain to someone who didn’t deserve it. A man who’d already had plenty in his life and didn’t deserve more. A person who mattered to Daniel, darn it. And someone whose hurt he was feeling now, too, like it or not.

A deep breath, and another sip of cooling coffee.

The door opened and Daniel glanced up with the wan hope it was Jack, trying not to be disappointed at the sight of Sam. Well, at least she’d have news, and would be company. He was getting a little sick of his own.

“Daniel.” Her smile was unusually reserved, and he knew why. Sam Carter might not have known Jack as long as Daniel had, but they had become a close team already and she was concerned for her friend and CO, too. Not to mention probably still taken aback at finding out about Charlie. That was something else Jack would have to deal with, Daniel mentally added to the list. The secret the older man never talked about was now common knowledge, and as private as Jack was, that would make things even harder for him.

“Sam,” he nodded, straightening up. “Have you seen Jack?”

She shook her head as she sat in the chair next to him. “Not since the gateroom.” Sam leaned closer. “Scuttlebutt has it he’s debriefing Mrs. O’Neill.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. That was news to him. “Sara? They let him do that? Wouldn’t it be better if—”

Sam shook her head again. “He insisted. I don’t think even the general himself could have made the colonel back off and let someone else do it.”

Daniel blinked. “Well, that’s, uh…typical Jack, actually. I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea after…” Well, they both knew after what.

Sam cocked her head, the look of curiosity in her eyes he was starting to recognize. And a great deal of compassion that he was even more familiar with. “Have they been divorced since his son…?”

“Died? Uh, no—actually, they’re not even divorced, I don’t think. I know Sara left him while he was on Abydos, the first time. But Jack came back…different from that mission. I think she might have stayed with him if she’d seen him after that.” Daniel’s thinking out loud came to a sudden halt as he realized he was giving more of Jack’s secrets away, to someone he might not have wanted to know. Daniel colored, and saw Sam realize what he was thinking and also blush and look away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no,” he was quick to answer. “I’ve been wondering about some of it, too. I’m just…well, I guess I’m a little worried about him. I don’t think you ever completely get over something like that, but can you imagine having it taken from your mind and paraded in front of you like that?”

Sam’s smile was so sad, it took him aback, and he realized abruptly how little he knew about any of his teammates’ past. But all she said was, “Sounds like the voice of experience,” and she put a hand on his arm, giving it a kind pat.

Or how little they knew about him. She was undoubtedly thinking about Sha’re, while Daniel had momentarily been transported to years before, to the old pain of a day in the New York Museum of Art. But he shook himself out of it—that was not important now nor the issue at hand. “So…does Hammond consider Sara a security risk?”

The moment passed and Sam pulled her hand back. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure how the colonel’s going to explain it to her, and he’s got to find out what the…crystal-Jack O’Neill told her, but I don’t think she really knows about the Stargate. They’ll probably just have her sign the usual paperwork.”

“Sure,” Daniel nodded sagely, “just tell her it was all a mistake and that wasn’t really her husband or son, but she shouldn’t tell anyone about it, anyway.”

Her lips flattened in disapproval; while Sam wasn’t the usual brunt of his anti-military-thinking vituperations, sometimes he couldn’t help himself, and sometimes, he knew, she did take it personally. “We didn’t exactly want it to happen this way, Daniel. If you can think of a better—”

He met her eyes squarely. “Tell her the truth. She could still sign the forms, but maybe then the woman would have some peace. And Jack…” It always came back to Jack, didn’t it?

Sam softened again just as quickly, and the glimpse of a fellow wounded soul made Daniel suddenly contrite. “You know we can’t do that,” she said softly.

Yes, he knew, for the same reason he couldn’t talk to Katherine or Nick no matter how much he wanted to and how certain he was they would understand. Coffee or no, fatigue swept through him, and Daniel rubbed wearily at his eyes. “You realize this’ll probably cost Jack what’s left of his marriage?”

She winced, deep inside where he would not have known to look for it just a few months before. And before she could answer out of her hurt or anger, which wouldn’t help anything, Daniel quickly cut in.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault. This just…isn’t very fair.”

Sam’s hand was back on his arm, and this time it stayed there in the long silence that followed as they sat together with their unhappy thoughts.

 

The SGC had found him an apartment some time ago, when it became apparent Daniel would be with them for a while. Jack had helped him move his meager possessions in and had then thrown him a housewarming party with a lot of guests from the SGC Daniel didn’t know. He’d nevertheless appreciated the gesture, but he’d rarely stayed at the apartment since. The base was as close as he could be to Abydos and to his wife, and that made it as close to home as Daniel would find on this planet.

But that day had just about given him his fill of military life, and after one last failed attempt to find and talk to Jack, Daniel filled a duffel and made his way to the surface and his long-ignored jeep. He only hoped it would start after..two weeks of disuse? Three weeks? When was the last time he’d driven it? Was it after they came back from the planet of Light? Yes, that seemed—

Daniel rounded the final corner into the parking lot and walked headlong right into…Sara O’Neill.

He fumbled with his jarred glasses and tried not to look as surprised as he felt. Or as ill at ease. Or like he was looking for Jack, which he was, but there was no one in sight besides an airman just behind her. They were apparently waiting for something, and it hadn’t been Daniel Jackson.

“Uh, Mrs. O’Neill. E-excuse me, I wasn’t—”

“You were there.”

He stared at her, wondering briefly which “there” she meant. And seeing up close for the first time the woman he’d mostly seen only in pictures. She was good looking if not beautiful, her eyes intelligent and her jaw firm even though she was pale and a little bloodshot after what had undoubtedly been a very bad day. In short, she was much like the kind of woman Daniel would have expected Jack to love and be his equal. She looked as strong as Jack had said.

And, now, tired and angry.

“Where, exactly…?” he finally fumbled a response, recalling again what she’d said.

“At the hospital. With Jack and…” She swallowed, looking defiant and hurt at once.

Daniel didn’t look away, just said gently. “Yes. Yes, I was. I’m on Jack’s team.”

“On Jack’s team,” she echoed, and to his surprise, smiled briefly. There was no joy in it. “I was once on Jack’s team, too.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. O’Neill—if there’s anything I can do—”

She refocused on him, her gaze sharpening. “You could explain to me what happened today, who that little boy was who looked just like my son, and who I was pouring my heart out to this morning if it wasn’t Jack. You could answer some of my questions instead of giving me that stupid ‘top secret’ line.”

So Jack hadn’t been able to tell her. Daniel was sorry he’d been right. He looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but—”

“I know, it’s a matter of national security. Don’t bother telling me—I know it by heart. It’s all Jack can say, too. If you’d ever lost someone you’d cared about, you’d know…”

Maybe it was his flinch, or maybe she saw something else in his face because she suddenly ran down, anger draining away as if the wound had been lanced. Not by him, Daniel knew, because he was too busy suddenly with his own remembered pain to do her any good. Could two damaged people do anything but hurt each other more?

To his surprise, though, she tried. “I’m sorry,” she said more quietly. “It’s just…been a long day.”

Daniel could see why Jack loved her. “I’m sorry, too. I wish I could do more,” he said earnestly, if a little hoarsely.

She only nodded and pulled her thin denim jacket more closely around herself, but it wasn’t just because of the brisk October evening air.

A military jeep pulled up beside them, and the airman with her helped Sara into it and then got into the back seat. She gave Daniel a long parting glance before it drove away, leaving him alone.

Two broken people could help each other, actually—he and Jack had done that on their initial trip to Abydos. But apparently it hadn’t worked for Jack and Sara, and if she was that upset, Daniel could imagine the colonel wasn’t faring much better. Oh, Jack hid it well, sometimes under anger like Sara had, but it was there just as deeply and painfully.

Wait a minute, had she said she’d poured her heart out to the fake Jack? Daniel ran a hand through his hair, momentarily dragging it out of his eyes. Well, that was just great; the alien being must have really gotten to her. In a way the real Jack O’Neill hadn’t. Did he know about that?

Probably, Daniel thought with a stab of empathy.And while Sara O’Neill was going back to her father and her friends, Jack would just stuff it even deeper and let it burn away inside him.

Daniel wheeled back toward the entrance to the base, just giving the guard a sheepish smile and a shrug as he went through the ID check again. Maybe he could help this time, too. He wasn’t sure what he’d done that first time on Abydos—or maybe it had been more what Skaara had done—but he was willing to try it once more. Jack had been there for him in those disjointed days after Sha’re had been taken and Daniel had returned to Earth. He owed the man. And…a person who’d gone through what Jack had that day shouldn’t be alone. The colonel wouldn’t talk to anyone about it without a direct order to do so, and Daniel wasn’t exactly keen on heart-to-hearts, either, but, well, maybe he could just be there for him. Maybe even give in and watch one of those stupid ice hockey games Jack loved so much. Daniel almost winced, then berated himself for his selfishness. What were a few hours of mind-numbing TV to helping a friend? Yes, he nodded. He’d do it.

Except Jack had somehow slipped out while he’d been topside and was already gone.

Daniel stood in the hallway of the SGC for a long minute, thinking, then finally went back up to the main gate and retrieved his car. Yes, he could go to Jack’s and intrude on the man’s space and maybe make himself have a few beers with the guy and get him to open up. But Jack hadn’t imposed himself on Daniel when the archaeologist was first grieving his wife’s disappearance, had only made sure Daniel knew where to find him and then let him have some space. And _then_ , when Daniel hadn’t availed himself of it, _then_ he’d gone looking for Daniel and dragged him kicking and screaming back into the flow of life.

It was the least he could do in return. The man deserved some time to try to sort things out, and maybe Daniel could figure out some plan of attack in the meantime. He smiled briefly as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine instantly flared to life. “Who says I don’t learn anything from you?” Daniel muttered, and pulled out of his parking space to head for home.

 

One thing he hadn’t missed in his time off-world had been the news back home. Daniel flipped idly through the newspaper he’d bought on a whim, scanning the headlines. Another Clinton scandal. John Glenn was going out into space again. Two baseball players he’d never heard of had battled it out for some kind of homerun record. Some show called _Seinfeld_ was paying their actors an amount that made Daniel rub his eyes in disbelief. Meanwhile, they at the SGC were saving the world, and Daniel had had to beg for a loan to buy his jeep. Well, at least he wouldn’t be wasting any more money on newspapers. He threw the thing into a fluttering pile in the backseat.

Daniel took a sip of the rich roast coffee he held, appreciating once more the incomparable superiority of Starbucks over commissary coffee. That was one change while he was gone that he approved of, coffee houses mushrooming throughout the country. Another steaming cup sat in the cupholder on the dash, Jack’s favorite blend. Not that Jack admitted having a favorite—he’d already given Daniel grief over drinking “designer coffee”—but shrewd anthropological observation had revealed the colonel’s fondness for a spicy blend Daniel didn’t care for personally. Yet another thing they were different in. What a surprise.

A glance at the dashboard clock showed a glowing 8:58, two minutes from his self-imposed margin on how long he was giving Jack to pull himself together. Daniel hadn’t even attempted to come by the day before, knowing the older man would either be nursing a hangover or dead to the world, either way not fit for company. But two days later seemed fair enough, and it wasn’t like he was really _company_. Daniel was unfortunately too familiar and at home with an unshaven, cranky Jack O’Neill.

The clock flipped to 8:59. Well, one more minute wouldn’t make a big difference. Daniel gathered the two cups of coffee and was edging out the door when he realized the keys were still in the ignition, so down went the coffee on the seat, the coffee cup bobbling threateningly until he moved it with an annoyed huff back to the cup holder. He took the key out just as the clock changed to 9:00. Fine, at least he was being punctual. Keys safely in his pocket, Daniel again collected the coffee and backed out of the door, nudging it shut with a foot, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. He was starting to get the feeling nothing would go easily that day.

At least he made it safely to the door, and managed to push the doorbell without further casualties. Then he affected an air of nonchalance and waited.

And waited. And waited.

Making a face, Daniel set one of the cups down on the porch beside him and opened the screen door to knock. “Jack?” he called out for good measure. The truck was in the driveway, the phone was off the hook when he’d called that morning: all the signs were there that Jack was home. And not answering his door.

Daniel muttered darkly under his breath as he tried the doorknob and found it locked. Big surprise there; Jack was nothing if not careful. Nor were any of the windows likely to be open even if Daniel lowered himself to crawling through one. That didn’t mean he couldn’t knock on one. Heartened, Daniel retrieved the coffee and started circling the house toward the side window of Jack’s bedroom.

The sound had been there all along, registering faintly at first but strengthening as he made his way toward the back. A rhythmical clopping sound, or maybe chopping? Curious, Daniel passed the bedroom window and turned the back corner.

Jack had his back to him, and wouldn’t have heard him anyway with the noise he was making. He was chopping wood with intensity, the axe falling heavily, almost violently each time, woodchips flying in all directions. His sweatshirt was stained with sweat despite the frost that glittered on the untouched logs next to him, a heap half the size of the pile of chopped kindling on his other side. But Jack showed no signs of stopping or awareness of anything around him beside the wood and the chopping block. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder as he silently watched what Jack was seeing on the chopping block in front of him as he worked.

The log on the block splintered into kindling, and Jack leaned forward for another. And suddenly swung around, axe upraised and ready as a weapon. Daniel blinked, not knowing what had given his presence away but startled to find himself facing an armed and wary O’Neill.

“Uh…hi,” he ventured.

Jack’s mouth flattened as he swung the axe back down to his side. “Daniel. Anyone ever tell you you shouldn’t sneak up on a man with an axe?” he asked evenly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Daniel shook his head thoughtfully. Although it made sense not to do so with someone who’d been trained in black ops to have a hair trigger. Thankfully, Jack wasn’t Colonel Makepeace, who probably would have swung first and looked second.

Jack gave him a very familiar disgusted look and shook his head. “Figures,” he muttered, turning back to the chopping block and dismissing Daniel in the same movement.

“Jack, I—”

“Let me guess,” Jack unexpectedly broke in, spinning back to face him. “You came to see how I was doing, if I’d drunk myself into a coma or maybe written that letter of resignation yet. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Daniel, but I’m doing just _fine_.”

Daniel didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “Well, uh, actually, I just came by to bring you some coffee.”

Jack blinked. “Oh.” For a second Daniel savored, he almost looked sheepish. “Well…thanks.” Jack switched the axe to his other hand and took the offered cup. Daniel caught the second moment of surprise as the flavor registered.

“But now that you mention it…did you?”

Jack took another gulp—he never sipped—and frowned at Daniel. “Did I what?”

“Drink yourself into a coma or resign from the SGC,” Daniel said mildly.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and Daniel wondered briefly if he’d be ordered off the property, but the only answer he got was a curt, “Doesn’t help.” And then Jack set the coffee down on the grass and went back to chopping.

What didn’t help, the drinking or the resigning? Probably neither; seemed like Jack had tried both before with little effect. Fate, or God, had other plans, and nothing you did could change them. Daniel hadn’t even considered the possibility of Jack trying to resign again, but found himself relieved nonetheless the option had been deliberately discarded. Jack could be a Neanderthal, but he grew on you.

And now he’d unsurprisingly tuned Daniel out, not even looking back to see if he was still there—although Daniel was pretty certain the older man knew—falling back into the rhythm of chopping. Well, he hadn’t wanted a soul-baring session, Daniel thought wryly, and Jack was certainly cooperating. And this beat hockey by a long shot.

Daniel set his coffee cup down on the stoop of the sliding glass back door, adding his thick jacket a moment later. That left him almost shivering in his knit sweater, but he doubted for long. Huddling against the chill, he made a generous circle around Jack and the arcing axe, to face the man.

Jack’s movement slowed, then stopped, his face wary.

“So what do you want me to do?” Daniel asked.

If the stare was meant to make him uncomfortable, it didn’t. Jack’s frown finally eased, and he jerked his head over to the shed that stood behind Daniel, its doors opened wide. “There’s a rake inside,” he said tersely.

Oh, yeah. Daniel noticed for the first time that Fall had indeed snuck up on them somewhere along the way. That happened when your daily job took you to places that could be any season, including some they didn’t have on earth. The trees were bright, warm-colored breaks in the grey sky, and a layer of frosted dead leaves covered the ground. He’d barely noticed the crunch under his feet until then. But working with something that wasn’t sharp was good. He could do raking. Daniel nodded, turning toward the shed.

“Hey.”

He swiveled back just in time to fumble the pair of heavy gloves that had been tossed him, managing not to drop either. He gave Jack an uncomprehending glance.

“Blisters,” was the pithy answer, and then Jack was positioning the next chunk of wood for chopping, ignoring him once more.

“Right,” Daniel mumbled. Blisters. Wonderful. No wonder he’d never had many friends. They always seemed to involve some sort of pain.

The rake was just where Jack said, in a shed/workshop that was testament to Jack’s military precision. Amazing he could be so neat in some areas and yet his office looked worse than some centuries-old rooms Daniel had helped dig up. Despite the naïve act he often affected, Jack was not a simple man.

Which was why Daniel was there, right? And if raking was the way to do what he had to do, well, when in Rome… Daniel took a deep breath, pulled the gloves on, and retrieved the worn rake. Back out in the yard, he went to the nearest corner and got started, soon falling into his own rhythm.

He saw Jack glance at him occasionally while chopping, as if Daniel were some puzzle the other man was trying to figure out, but the older man didn’t say a word. And mounting back strain, fatigue, and all, Daniel found himself quietly smiling as he worked.

 

They took a break for lunch, sandwiches from a little place a few blocks away Jack swore by. They were good, Daniel had to admit, and his and Jack’s tastes didn’t often dovetail. The conversation, however, left a little to be desired, the long stretches of silence broken only by such meaningful lines as a request for a napkin or passing the salt. Both nonplussed and relieved, Daniel returned to the yard work with renewed energy. He’d raked all the leaves in the back into a neat pile and Jack had chopped and stacked all the wood, so he moved on to bagging leaves while Daniel began raking the front yard.

It was a nice house, actually, a lot more to his liking than the little apartment Daniel had in the city. That felt like a place to store his stuff and occasionally sleep over in, but Jack’s place felt like a _home_. The clusters of trees enclosing it appealed to Daniel; for someone who’d grown up mostly in desserts and who now saw a lot of trees in his current job, he still loved all the green. It was one of the many things he missed in the city, even a city as green as Colorado Springs. The house’s location also had something to do with its cozy feel, set out in the suburbs and a little bit away from the neighbors, just secluded enough to be private without actually being a hermit. The trees added an additional layer of insulation from the world at large.

Daniel paused in the midst of raking to catch his breath and give the house a more critical glance. It was a retreat, wasn’t it. Physically as well as emotionally. Interesting that someone as outgoing as Jack would seek a place like that. It seemed like it was made for leaving the world behind for a while.

Except that the world—or the universe—could get to be too much for anyone sometimes. Jack did usually seem impervious, shrugging off blows with a wisecrack and that annoyingly relentless can-do attitude. But after all they’d been through, Daniel should have known better than to think it never got to him, that the animation and energy Daniel found himself relying on never needed recharging. Life at its roughest drove Daniel into his office, back to his beloved books and artifacts. Apparently, Jack it drove back to here, _his_ sanctuary.

Until some flat-footed friend insisted on following.

What was he doing there, anyway? Jack was a grown man, one with a lot more life experience than Daniel, as a matter of fact. As a soldier, he’d survived places Daniel would probably never hear about, and as a husband and father had lost his child in one of the most agonizing ways possible, and his wife only a little less painfully. Okay, yeah, that part Daniel could relate to, too, but hadn’t he appreciated it when people had left him alone after Sha’re’s loss rather than badgering him to “let it out,” whatever that meant? So why was he inflicting his own presence on Jack instead of letting the man have his space?

Because…

Daniel furiously started raking again, suddenly sorry he’d started along that line of thought. He should have just minded his own business. Well, he still could. He could finish helping Jack out with the yard work and then go home and leave the man alone until they had to report back to the SGC for their next assignment.

But it wouldn’t let him be. Even as he gripped the rake so hard, it hurt, Daniel knew the answer to why he was there. Because even in the worst of his pain after losing Sha’re, when all he’d wanted to do was curl up and die, in the deepest part of him he’d not even been able to see then, he hadn’t wanted to be alone. Yet Jack had somehow known, and stuck close until the pain had at least grown bearable again. Maybe it was just a human need he’d recognized, although he’d have denied such sensitivity in a heartbeat. Or maybe they just weren’t as different as Daniel had thought.

“Hey, Jackson! You hungry yet?”

Daniel started at the call, and at the question. Hadn’t they just had lunch? But, impossibly, the sun was starting to sink into the horizon, painting the bland canvass of the sky with colors as bright as the leaves he was raking, and Daniel’s stomach panged in answer to the thought of food. Apparently he’d gotten more engrossed in raking than he’d have guessed. Most of the front yard was done, a line of leaf piles by the curb.

Jack was approaching from the corner of the house, tugging off his own work gloves. The activity had put some color in his face, masking a little the lines of strain from the last few days, and Daniel wondered absently again how they could have been fooled by that pale imitation, literally, that had followed them home from the planet. Of course, even Sara had been taken in. People tended to see what they wanted to, or thought they should.

“Sure,” Daniel answered, leaning against the rake as Jack walked up to him. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe a couple o’ thick steaks, baked potatoes, beer. You in?”

His mouth started watering indecently and his stomach was practically tying itself in knots in anticipation at the thought. They’d been on a lot of missions those last few weeks—and eaten a lot of MRE’s—and Daniel sometimes forgot how good real food could be, especially after a day of physical labor. Even on digs, the simple stews they’d been served had tasted so good after long hours of working in the sun.

Jack must have caught something of his reaction because his mouth quirked up into a near-smile. “I’ll take that as a yes. Go wash up.” He nodded at the house.

“Okay.” Daniel didn’t need to be told twice.

The house was almost as familiar as his own, and he wended his way back to the bathroom without even flicking a light on. The darkening house added to the feeling of peace nestled inside him. Even on Abydos, twilight had been his favorite time of day, before night had really set in but when the activities of the day had already stopped. Sha’re and he would often go up on the city wall to watch the sun set and silently enjoy each other’s company. The memory didn’t hurt as much as it would have a few months before.

He emerged from the bathroom to a house that still felt as quiet as when he’d entered it. Jack was probably ready and impatiently waiting for him by the truck. Daniel hurried through the house and outside. No Jack. Eyebrows rising, he retraced his steps of that morning around to the back of the house.

The light was on over the deck, and Jack was standing at the grill, his back to Daniel, working on something. The smell of steaks broiling told him just what, and Daniel climbed the wood steps of the deck to watch and slaver.

“I thought we were going out,” he offered dumbly.

That got him a familiar lift of the eyebrows. “You trying to tell me something, Daniel?”

“No, no—that actually smells…great. I just didn’t want you to go through any trouble…”

“Not much more work fixing something for two than it is for one.”

The truncated sentences and subdued tone would have put him off six months before, but Daniel had learned to look for other clues now: the relaxed posture Jack never allowed himself on missions or whenever he was on guard with someone, the willingness with which he sometimes met Daniel’s gaze and the lack of wariness in his eyes when he did, the easy inclusion of Daniel in both work and meals. Daniel’s so-called peers in archaeology and anthropology he’d spent his whole life proving himself to showed him less acceptance than this old soldier did.

Silently, Daniel rolled up his sleeves to pitch in. There was a head of lettuce that was only half-wilted sitting in a bowl on the table, and he managed to make a decent salad out of it, adding some cherry tomatoes and Italian dressing he found in the refrigerator. Jack was already nursing a beer while he grilled, but Daniel found the juice he liked that always mysteriously seemed to show up in Jack’s refrigerator. He relocated it to the picnic table on the deck along with two glasses and two more bottles of beer in precarious balance. Paper plates—the bachelor’s friend—and cutlery were added last. Just in time for Jack to slide a sizzling steak onto his plate, followed by a heat-split, crusty potato.

The silence this time was from not being able to eat the hot food fast enough. Even though it burned his tongue, Daniel couldn’t remember tasting anything so good in too long.

“Where did you learn to grill like this?” he finally managed between bites. His tiny balcony grill on his tiny balcony only managed to make meat tough and burnt.

Another raised eyebrow. “Grilling’s the great American pastime, Daniel—didn’t you know that? Right up there with apple pie and hockey.”

“I thought it was baseball.”

A steely glance silenced him. “It’s passed on through the generations,” Jack continued, warming to his subject. “Dad’s pass it on to their sons. My dad taught me…”

They both seemed to realize in the same moment where that was going, and Daniel winced as fresh grief passed through Jack’s face while he watched. The older man abruptly became engrossed with his food again, this time without enthusiasm.

Daniel bit his lip, his own interest in the food waning, and wondered if he should say something. He could wear out his welcome fast if he pushed, and undo any good that day had done.

“I saw Sara at the base that night,” he finally ventured.

“Daniel—” came the immediate warning growl.

“I’m not going to push, Jack. I just want you to know…I’m good at listening, too, not just talking.”

He could hear Jack’s irritation rising and his patience falling. “If you came to start an encounter group, Jackson, I think you’ve got the wrong house.” He started to rise from his seat, no doubt prepared to escort Daniel back to his car and gently send him off.

Daniel’s discomfort and uncertainty, even his stutter left him all at once. “I came to spend some time with a friend who was going through a hardship,” he said calmly, quietly. “Just like you did a few months ago, remember?”

Jack slowly sank back down on the bench, but Daniel had started eating again and didn’t look to see his expression. He’d said his piece; let Jack do with it what he would.

The mutter a minute later didn’t surprise him.

“Just when you think you’ve got somebody figured out…”

Daniel smiled into his plate.

“…she still surprises you.”

_She?_ Daniel blinked, looked up, but Jack’s eyes were on the table, not him.             

“I mean, I thought we were past all this…”

He didn’t seem inclined to finish the sentence this time, however. Daniel thought for a minute, trying to translate the half-thoughts. He finally swallowed his bite and took a stab at it. “It’s hard to ignore when it’s shoved in your face, Jack.”

“I know it wasn’t Charlie, but…seeing him that way…”

“That’s natural. Some things hurt and help at the same time.”

A snort. “Yeah, like an alien who’s a better husband than the real thing. It wasn’t fair to pull her into this—I couldn’t even tell her what happened, who Charlie really was.” Jack ran both hands through his hair, leaving them clasped at his neck as he rested his elbows on the table. It was as close to the picture of dejection as Daniel had ever seen the man.

It wasn’t hard guessing who “she” was, and the rest of the blanks Daniel could fill in on his own. What to say in answer was the real mystery. “That’s hard,” he murmured. He played with the napkin, wiped his mouth, set the napkin down again. “In a way, we deal by forgetting and moving on. It’s…hard to do that when you see someone who keeps reminding you.” Okay, that was more about Sha’re than Sara and he knew it, but the principle was the same. As was the pain.

Jack’s shoulders lifted in a brief, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I never was very good at that whole dealing thing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Daniel said wryly. Then shrugged. “I’m the same way, Jack. Maybe that’s the only way we _can_ deal with things”

Jack’s hands dropped back to the table, but his shoulders remained bowed, holding a weight Daniel could only imagine. He half-heartedly cut a bit from the lukewarm chunk of steak still on his plate and chewed it without paying attention to its taste. Jack took his cue a moment later and also resumed eating, as listlessly as Daniel. Sam would have shaken her head at the both of them, Daniel thought with a small smile, and uttered a disgusted, “Men!” But talking didn’t solve everything.

He frowned, pausing in mid-chew. “Jack, when did you last talk to Charlie?”

Jack stared at him with narrowed eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

“I don’t mean before…you know,” Daniel went on hastily. He had a positive talent for putting his foot in his mouth. “I mean since then. Do you ever go out and…see him?”

“He’s dead, Daniel.” Even Jack flinched at the sharpness of his words.

“I know. But he’s not dead inside you. Why don’t you go visit him?”

“When’s the last time you visited somebody who was dead?” Jack countered, unrelenting.

“Two weeks ago,” Daniel shot back without hesitation. “That weekend we had off. I’d go more often, but I can’t get out to Kansas all that often.” It was almost ironic that his parents, students and residents of the world as they’d been, were buried in some place as prosaic as the heart of the American Midwest, but that was where his father’s family plot was, and family history had finally won out over ancient history in death as it hadn’t been able to in life.

Jack’s expression changed minutely. “Who?” he asked more quietly.

“Family.” It was a dodge and he knew it, but his loss wasn’t what they were talking about. “I’ll drive,” he went back to the subject at hand.

“I don’t need a chauffeur.” But the earlier anger was gone. Now he just looked tired. A grieving father and husband.

Daniel took one more chance. “How about a friend?”

A long silence, but at least it wasn’t a rejection out of hand. “Is there anything you’re not stubborn about, Jackson?” Jack asked finally.

His mouth snapped close. Not the question he’d expected. “Uh, well, I can’t think of anything. Anything worth having an opinion on is worth fighting for.”

“Figures,” Jack mumbled. More loudly, he said, “All right. On one condition.”

“Yes?” Daniel asked.

“You stop talking and let me eat.”

“Oh. Uh, right.” As if he’d been the reason Jack hadn’t been eating. But he hid his grin as he watched his friend dig into the food with renewed interest.

It wasn’t exactly catharsis and tears and soul-baring, and wasn’t _that_ a relief. But for the two of them it wasn’t bad.

And there were other ways to see into a man’s soul.

 

“This is a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not. You’ll see, it’ll be fine.”

“Look, I changed my mind, I don’t wanna go.”

“Ja-ack.”

“I’m serious, Daniel—maybe another time, okay?”

“Not okay. We’re almost there. You’ll see, this is a good thing.” He kept driving.

Dead silence from the passenger seat. He was almost tempted to look except then he knew Jack would win, and he’d worked too hard to get him to agree to this to let him back out now.

They pulled into the parking lot and Daniel uttered a sub-vocal sigh of relief. “See? We’re here.”

“Yeah, well, let’s get this over with.”

Daniel climbed out of his jeep, making sure Jack was following, and led the way along the walk. “You’ll see, you’re gonna love this.” He opened the Starbucks door with a flourish and waved Jack inside.

The smell of coffee flew right to his brain, and Daniel closed his eyes and inhaled with pleasure. Maybe it was a drug like some scientists claimed, but if so, he was a willing addict.

“There, you see, it’s people like you who started places like this,” Jack’s voice interrupted the fantasy. “A whole chain of stores that just sell _coffee_. It’s like a yuppie dream come true.” The older man’s tone was that usually reserved for Apophis and other Goa’uld.

It wasn’t about to deter Daniel, though. “And archaeologists who never get enough sleep. Actually, they’ve had coffeehouses like this for centuries in Europe—some of the best literature and philosphy and even political movements came from—”

“Uh!” Jack raised one finger and both eyebrows.

“Right. Sorry,” Daniel said without contrition. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Okay, so they only got as far as the line, and even then Jack was peevish enough that Daniel ended up ordering for them both, but that was okay. He wasn’t even sure Jack knew the name of the brand he liked. Daniel imagined this was what having kids was like sometimes, and at that moment wasn’t sorry to be single.

Steaming cups in hand, he waved at the empty tables around them. “You want to sit down?” The are-you-kidding-me? look he got was vintage Jack, and Daniel stifled a smile at it. “Okay, that’d be a no. We can just go—”

Jack was already heading for the door.

“—home.” Daniel’s arm fell to his side in resignation. Some things never would change about Jack O’Neill. This one at least he wouldn’t mind so much. And some, although God knows he’d never tell Jack, he even appreciated. Like the way they’d spent the previous day, winterizing the house—a concept totally new to Daniel’s world—sharing companionable meals, and then playing Scrabble, of all things…which Jack soundly beat him in. And the evening before that, once they’d returned from the cemetery, they had talked. Jack had been very careful not to bring up his son or Sara or the crystal entity, but his stories about his own father and childhood had revealed almost as much. Healing was never really completed, but Daniel got the feeling his being there had helped it progress a little faster and maybe even easier.

After all, Jack had to be feeling better if he could go on all the way home about designer coffee and coffeehouses and those who frequented them. Daniel noticed, though he was nice enough not to point it out, that Jack’s cup was empty by the time they pulled into his driveway.

“So, what’s on the slate for today?” Daniel brightly changed the subject as crossed the freshly raked lawn. “Hedge trimming? Or I hear painting can be pretty exciting.” The sky had cleared overnight, a deep azure blue now, and the breeze was just strong enough to make the air crisp. Even Jack’s house looked different in the sunshine, not as aloof or chilly as it had the day before.

“Actually, there’s a game on…”

He knew it. There was just no spending any length of time with Jack without some sport being involved. “Wednesday morning?” Daniel protested weakly.

“Cable,” came the reply with a knowing, almost evil smile. Jack knew exactly how Daniel felt and was loving it. But he stopped in the middle of opening the door and turned back to Daniel, more serious now, and nodded at him. “By the way, uh, thanks for doing all this.”

It almost took him off guard but not quite. “You’re welcome,” Daniel said quietly.

Another nod, then Jack cocked his head. “You knew I was talking about the yard work, right?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Of course.”

“Right. Just so we’re clear.”

“Sure.”

“Great.” And then that ever-so-slight smile, the one Daniel had used to think mocking before he’d gotten to know Jack and realized it was fond. He turned and went inside, leaving the door open for Daniel to follow.

And thinking what a good day it was after all, Daniel did.

 

The End


End file.
